Vows
by Captain Reindeer
Summary: A wedding has Vash and Wolfwood discussing the topic of marriage, and their own relationship. With a gunbattle involved.


_Hey kids~_

 _My other story has come to a standstill for the moment, so here's a minor distraction for now!_

 _This is co-written with a pal, who has asked not to be named. Said pal is an extremely slow writer so I can't promise any quick updates, but here's hoping!_

 _Enjoy!_

* * *

The afternoon sun seeped into everything in its path, leaving a sluggish feeling in limbs and a content one in minds. It was a lazy weekend, the usual bustle of the city street had dulled to a quiet dawdle of children playing and friends meeting.

Wolfwood stood, leaning against the hotel balcony, a cigarette resting on his lips with a good centimetre of ash that he'd been too lazy to tap away. The warmth of the two suns wasn't yet bad enough to retreat inside, but strong enough to warrant wearing his dark sunglasses. That, and he was still feeling the tail end of a bad night of drinking with Vash. Any avoided exposure to light was a neccasary thing to him right now.

The balcony boasted a great view down the length of the street. The rough sand road had been stomped into a path by the feet of townspeople, nomads and Thomas. Most of whom were now inside the short fat buildings that lined the street, various saloons, bars, and hotels, or restaraunts. Except the Thomas, who were tethered to water troughs and looked miserable in the direct sun.

It was the building at the end of the streeth that had Wolfwoods attention, a half-interested stare over the frame of his sunglasses. It was a sand-beaten church, its roof patchy with various repairs and paint missing from its decorative doors. A few of the stained glass windows had been smashed and boared up again. Such is Gunsmoke.

The bells of the church had been rining heartily all afternoon, and a festival amount of people were gathered inside the gardens stone walls, chatting and laughing in the dry sandy space that was meant to hold said garden. In the middle of it all was the bride and groom. The womans heirloom-wedding dress was stained a creamy color from generations of love and Gunsmokes peristent sand, the man looked so dishevelled and messy that it was clear his day had been too long and far too stressful. But still, the both looked extremely happy with themselves. Occasionally they'd smile and exchange gooey eyes.

Wolfwood exhaled a cloud of smoke.

And nearly sucked it up again when hands wrapped around his waist. The pressure against his back that quickly followed made it clear who it was. Vash was a very obvious and loud man, easy to spot, but sometimes he had an extroadinary ability to sneak up on Wolfwood.

Vash rested his chin on his partners shoulder, following his absent stare to the church at the end of the street. The food on the buffet table had his attention first, then he finally noticed the couple milling around the middle of the gathering.

"Is that a wedding?"

Despite being used to the man in the red coat, this time Wolfwood bristled at his touch. Something about being in the presence of a church made him uncomfortable. Perhaps it was the ever disapproving eye of the father, son and holy spirit. "No. It's a funeral." Wolfwood replied curtly, finishing his cigarette and flipping it off the balcony. Vash loosened his grip on Wolfwood and approached the balcony. The afternoon sunlight streaked through the clouds and framed Vashs silhouette. Wolfwood noted it made his companion look almost saintly but could never bring himself to say something so soppy.

"No, That's definitely a wedding." Vash replied, Oblivious to the preachers sarcasm. "It looks like it's just finished." The small crowd was slowly dispersing.

"So it is." Wolfwood, feeling his nicotine fix had not been sated moved to light himself another cigarette.

"Say, Nick..."

Oh god, here it comes.

Wolfwood had been trained to dread those words. Whenever Vash prefaced a question with them he found an unpleasantly heavy conversation would surely come to follow. What better than a wedding to prompt a deep meditation on life and death from the patronly saint of Gunsmoke?

"You're a priest. Have you ever conducted a wedding?" Wolfwood paused to take a drag from his cigarette. The silence between them lasted longer than Vash deemed comfortable. "No."

Another silence before Wolfwood continued.

"Can't say I have. There weren't many chances for that sort of thing while I ran the orphanage." Wolfwood watched his companion. Vash was watching the wedding goers but what was that in his eyes? Regret perhaps? Or was it a hint of sadness. The priest could only guess, but perhaps seeing a union such as this reminded Vash of his "Otherness". In a sense it doomed him to always be an observer. Always watching, for a union of this kind would be impossible for him.

Perhaps in a sense, Being a plant meant dying alone.

What an unusually pensive thought. This wasn't like him. In that moment a spontaneous thought arose to cheer up the Humanoid Typhoon.

"Why don't we join them?"

"Hu-whaa?"

"I mean why don't we gatecrash the wedding?" Wolfwood cocked a half smile. "We missed the ceremony but if we hurry we can catch the afterparty. We'll just say we're friends of the groom."

Vash laughed. "That's crazy Nick!" despite his protests the plan was already in motion. Vash took an unopened bottle of bourbon from the previous night. It would have been terribly rude to attend without at least bringing a wedding present he justified. And with that, the duo were off. Out the hotel, around the corner and following the happy wedding folk into a small building on the edge of the town. They walked in on the newly-wed groom giving a speech at a dinner party.

"You are the best thing about me, Abby." The bride eyed her husband with deep affection in her eyes. "Before I found you I was a wreck. You've brought out the best in me. These last two years have been the best of my life. I love you, and I'm so glad I found you."

There was a hail of applause, Vash cheered bringing a little more attention to himself that Wolfwood would have liked.

Suddenly, a large muscular man in a swallowtail suit stood up. He had a frown that could curdle milk and his eyes screamed for blood. "That's all very good..." he said in a gravelly voice "but I object!"

The groom gave a puzzled look. "But we're already married. You can't object. Who the hell are you anyway?!" The stranger scoffed. "I don't give a damn about your wedding. I just can't let you live your happy little life after all the blood you've spilled. After all the suffering you've caused us!"

Doors on either side of the room were kicked off their hinges and men with guns poured into the room. Everything happened so fast the frightened wedding-goers dared not move, the tension in the room was palpable.

"I-I-I don't know you! I-I-I've done nothing to you!" The terrified groom stammered.

"Not you!" the man in the swallowtail suit spat as he produced a pistol of his own.

"After all the people you've killed, and the hell you've put us through you really think you can leave your bloody past behind and just start again? Not a goddamned chance!"

The man's gun shook with rage as he aimed it at the bride.

"I'm sending you to hell where you belong. We'll never forgive you for what you've done to us...Sandstorm Sally!"


End file.
